Flying High Inside Your Arms
by The Brat Prince
Summary: Marcus Flint is in his first year of Hogwarts. Charlie Weasley is his first crush ever- and the reason he gets involved with Quidditch.


Flying High Inside Your Arms

By: The Brat Prince

A/N: Eh. So sue me, I can't help it. I'm drawn to weird, albeit sensible couples. Come on, the Arthur/James fics really work if you think about it. So does this one. The new, and only as far as I can tell, Charlie Weasley x Marcus Flint onesided fic. As of 10/2/02. ^-^ Come on, don't be skeptical. It'll work. All I ask is 10 reviews before I make the next chapter. 10 is really not too much to ask. I know. One of my other fics got 13 in one week. Umm, try to remember…Marcus is ten here. Ten year olds act very mature in Rowling's world, but most real ten years olds…they act like Dudley. Trust me, I volunteer in a pediatrics ward. 

            When Marcus first started Hogwarts, he was no different than any other wizarding child. Somewhat pompous and arrogant, but not so much as the more wealthy children, and pretty much very jaded about the way the world worked. His father may have been a cruel man, but he taught Marcus that love and hate were very much the same. There was no gray area in between.

            That didn't mean he wasn't a kid. A wounded child may have the eyes of a martyr and a heart of ice, but they still remain a child. Marcus was even more childlike then most in that he had never experienced love. His mother was dead, his father a bastard, what love was there for him to experience? 

            He thought he was all grown up at ten years old, but he could never truly grow until he had felt the pain of love. 

            Marcus thought everyone in his class was clueless. He thought he was the only one he could rely one, the only one he could love, if you called his fragile self esteem love. He sat out on the Quidditch field at night and thought on this the first week of his first year. 

            Then he met Charlie Weasley. Charlie was the complete opposite of his father. He was a tall, handsome seventh year, quite knowledgeable in the ways of the world. Charlie was in Gryffindor house, the house that all Marcus's fellow Slytherins said to stay away from, because they were cowards who would only hold one back from his ambitions. The second Marcus saw Charlie, he knew it couldn't be true. 

            The boy was the captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, had perfect scores and perfect looks. He was unbelievably handsome, even though most girls preferred his younger, more rebellious brother, Bill. Bill was a fifth year, prefect, naturally. 

            Charlie looked at Marcus then glanced at the stars, "Eh, kid? What are you doing?"

            "Looking at the stars." Marcus replied in a gruff voice, hiding his awe with ease, "Shove off."

            The redhead laughed, and it was like a spell was winding its way around Marcus's heart, "You're a feisty one aren't you. Slytherin, eh? Makes sense."

            "Slytherin isn't my name you know." Marcus replied haughtily.

            "Oh? Then what is it? I'm Charlie Weasley."

            "Weasley? Dad says the Weasleys live in a trailer park."

            "Well, your father is stupid kid. No offense."

            "It's Marcus."

            "Eh?" Charlie's blue eyes gazed at him keenly, "Marcus, hmm? Well Marcus, the sun is coming up. Perhaps you better clear off the field before the rest of your big bad house comes and teases you too much. Can't find you talking to a Gryffindor, can they?"

            Marcus shook his head, this was true. He didn't want the older kids to torment him. So he got up and walked off the field, then turned, "Uh, Charlie?"

            "Yessir?" Charlie's grin seemed so friendly. Freckles dotted his nose and dimples defined his cheeks. Marcus felt his heart skip a beat. 

            "Umm…could you teach me how to fly? Sometime?"

            Running a hand through his red hair, Charlie's brow furrowed in thought, "Are you sure? No offense, but I wouldn't want to er- get you killed."

            "I'm sure."

            "Well then. I reckon we might be able to give you a lesson tomorrow. Right here at midnight, okay? Don't let Filch catch you. Can't be getting First year's a detention can I?" He nodded to himself.

            Marcus nodded as well, unsure whether the boy was still talking to him or not. He decided he wasn't as Charlie stalked onto the dew soaked lawn and picked an old school broom off the field. It was old, really old. He saw what his father meant about the Weasleys being poor as dirt. 

            But with his figure illuminated by the rising sun, Charlie Weasley didn't look all that poor. 

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R+R please   ~Moony


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